


The catalyst

by mistressdickens



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:39:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8351296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistressdickens/pseuds/mistressdickens
Summary: Things have gone from bad to worse at Holby, and now Serena Campbell has to ring Bernie or face the possibility of losing her altogether.





	

It has been a point of pride to Serena over the last month that she has not drafted or sent a single message to the Ukraine, no matter how many times she might have plotted one in her head during lonely nights. However much she misses Bernie, she respects the boundaries that have been set.

She has had time and space to think things through, and understands that those words were as much for Bernie’s benefit as hers. She is not the only one of the pair who had had the life terrified out of her.

But things at Holby have started to take a worrying turn for the dramatic and these is a growing sense of dread, which sits above Serena’s sternum, that says if Bernie does not return soon, she might not be able to do so at all.

Tristan Wood has been throwing his weight around in the most devious manner, attempting (and managing) to get under the skin of those most susceptible to his smooth demeanour, and using his gentlemanly wiles to strike out dangerously.

Dr Burrows (Dr? Serena thinks acidly – how Jasmine has reached that stage is beyond her. The woman seems to remember nothing of her training) has already messed things up so badly that Ric has been forced into a suspension, whilst Hanssen has completely disappeared, rumours of depression and illness following him. Serena is not surprised that Guy has fixed his star to Tristan’s waggon. He probably hopes that by doing so, he can finally oust the Swede from his CEO post and claim that plum for himself.  
He’s welcome to it as far as Serena is concerned. Once upon a time she might have set her sights that high, but not any longer. Her priorities have shifted now. She has Jason to care for. And Bernie. Well – she had Bernie ….

Serena shakes her head slightly to dispel that particular thought, and straightens up from her prone position on her couch, and refocuses. The glass of wine on the coffee table goes untouched for once.

She is not surprised that Guy should be so self serving (normative determinism notwithstanding). What does surprise her is his apparent abandonment of his daughter. A visit from Jac last week (a rare occurrence these days, which is a shame) has revealed that Zosia’s mental health is clinging by a thread, and if it breaks, yet another friendly face will disappear from the professional family of which she is so protective. She doubts she can help Zosia – not like last time. It is, after all, due to her carelessness that the fact a bi-polar doctor works at Holby is known at all.

Serena would be able to cope with this litany of upsets alone were it not for the fact that a familiar face has turned up, rather than vanished, and has set about making life even harder. Serena doubts that even Edward could cause so much mayhem as Imelda Cousins has. She has swept in, Tristan Wood’s right had woman, and set about a detailed review of costs.

Holby is apparently haemorrhaging money (what NHS trust is not, Serena asks herself) and brutal amputations must be made, if the hospital itself is to be saved, apparently.  
And this is why Serena finds herself staring at her phone, trying to psyche herself up to ringing Bernie.

Just today, Imelda has confided in a sweet stage whisper that Hanssen apparently went beyond his remit in promising the funds to run the trauma bay being set up, and when the cuts take place (‘and they must happen. Don’t you see Serena?’ Imelda has said in that light, overly friendly, way of hers, hand placed patronisingly on Serena’s shoulder) it is likely that the trauma bay will be the first to go.

Serena cannot let that happen. Not without a fight. But it is not her fight. At times, if she were completely honest, she could do without the shrill ring of the red phone disturbing the work of the AAU; but she knows how much satisfaction it gives Bernie to be able to swoop in at a moment’s notice and give her all to save another life.  
This fight needs Bernie.

This hospital needs Berenice Griselda Wolfe far more than she does on a personal level, and if that is the bargaining chip that will persuade Bernie to come home before she is due, Serena is more than willing to lay it on the table.

Sighing, Serena realises her train of thoughts have caught up to the present situation, and her task cannot be put off any longer. 

Picking up her mobile, she finds the correct number and presses call, slightly disconcerted by the length of time it takes to connect, before reminding herself of international dialling codes and such like.

Seven full rings and then a husky and slightly surprised voice cuts through. ‘Serena!’

‘Hello Bernie.’

There is a pause where only the slight crackle of the line is heard, before Serena ploughs forward. ‘How are you?’

Bernie chuckles wryly, as if she can’t quite believe Serena has broken a month’s radio silence to ask after her health, but replies candidly.

‘Exhausted. I’ve just got back home after a shift and a half, involving a seven hour operation to save a man with multiple gun shot wounds. I’m pleased to say he’ll live, but I feel like I could sleep for a week!’

‘Oh!’ Serena’s concern rushes to the fore, despite the urgency of her call. ‘I’m sorry I disturbed. I can call later … if you want?’

‘No!’ Bernie’s reply is instant. ‘It’s good to hear your voice. How are you?’

Serena is about to joke about feeling wrung out, but catches herself and takes a deep breath to pull her back to focus. ‘Bernie, as much as I’d like to make small talk, hear all about the things you’ve been up to, I’m afraid I called to ask a favour.’

‘Oh. Right. Of course.’ Is that disappointment in Bernie’s voice? Serena doesn’t let herself linger on the possibility, tamping down on the flickering hope the tone sparks in her heart.

‘I need you to come back.’ She continues talking through the audible intake of breath from the other end of the line. ‘I’m not asking for me – for us. If there even is an us. Holby needs you. Everything has gone wrong since you left, and if you don’t come back now, there might not be anything to come back to.’

She cannot help the break in her voice as she finishes her sentence. So much hangs in the balance, she now realises. Bernie could decide this is the perfect get out clause; could never come back. The last memory she could have would be being harshly abandoned in the middle of the ward.

Bernie’s voice cuts through her harried thoughts. ‘What do you need me to do?’

Ah, there she is, thinks Serena, a smile flitting across her lips. The gung-ho army medic, ready to jump into battle before knowing the full picture. Some things would never change, it seems. Thank heavens for small mercies.

‘I need you to come and defend your trauma bay and your colleagues, which seems to be coming from all sides. I’ve been trying to do it by myself, but –‘  
‘On your own?’ Bernie interrupts, ‘Where’s Ric and Hanssen?’

Serena takes her time in explaining the whole sorry mess, Bernie chipping in with gasps of shock and questions on occasion, before finally exploding with ‘And if I have to see THAT woman smirk in my direction one more time, I will most likely slap her, and then she’ll charge me with assault or something. And the way the board is behaving, Tristan bloody Wood will probably fire me, and then I’ll really have something to cry in my car about!’

Both women gasp at this admission, although for entirely different reasons, and before Bernie can speak, Serena groans and mutters ‘Oh, forget I said that.’

Bernie, to her credit, can sometimes follow orders, and for once knows exactly what to say. ‘Poor Serena. No one has your back, do they?’

‘No. Will you come?’ Serena does not say please, it feels too much like begging.

A tiny pause, really no more than a breath and then Bernie is speaking again. ‘Of course. You can count on me Serena.’

‘Thank you. I’ve missed working with you.’

‘Is that all?’ Bernie’s voice is low and far away, in an austere Ukrainian flat, a blonde woman finds herself raising an eyebrow to her mirrored self, as she recognises the words and thinks how far she has come recently.

‘No’ whispers Serena, ‘But that’s not a conversation to have via phone.’

‘Ok’.

The silence stretches out between them, but it is fa less awkward than earlier in the evening. It is a remarkable thing that they are able to just sit and listen to each other breathing, and both women relish the fact for a few moments before Bernie speaks again.

‘I’ll talk to the powers that be tomorrow. I don’t think I’ll be able to just up and leave immediately.’ (Serena resists retorting that she managed it perfectly well a mere month ago). ‘But the cavalry should arrives in a couple of weeks. Do you think you can hold the fort until then Fraulien?’

‘Absolutely Ms Wolfe. Thank you.’

‘You’re very welcome. …. Serena …. I….’

‘Goodnight Bernie.’ Serena says decisively. ‘I’ll see you in two weeks.’

The line goes dead and Serena slowly lowers the phone, sinking back into the sofa. It is not the way she would have liked to end the conversation, but she didn’t think she would be able to cope with whatever it was Bernie might have wanted to say.

It would keep. Two weeks weren’t such an awfully long time to wait, and knowing her blonde medic (because she was hers, that much was certain) would blow the enemy from the waters when she arrived was enough to get her through whatever was thrown at her in that time.

She only hopes she gets to see Imelda’s face when the cavalry charges in. Bernie in full battle mode is a sight to behold.


End file.
